


Golden Clocks (Priceless)

by LivelyColorfulWorld



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Enemies to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27995088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivelyColorfulWorld/pseuds/LivelyColorfulWorld
Summary: When Donghyuck joins the school marching band as a color guard member, he doesn’t know what to expect. Of course, seeing Mark Lee, the drumline section leader, all the time wasn’t part of his plan, considering how much he dislikes Mark. Somewhere along the way, between spinning flags and marching on the turf, Donghyuck discovers that maybe Mark isn't so bad.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 34
Kudos: 259
Collections: NCT Bigbang Round 1





	Golden Clocks (Priceless)

**Author's Note:**

> hello !  
> this was. an adventure. super indulgent lol <3 marching band is very dear to me and i'm. overall pretty happy with this  
> huge thanks to the nctbb mod reya for being so understanding n flexible <3  
> and please check out feitans’ lovely lovely [art](https://twitter.com/feitans_/status/1340688863623200768?s=21) for this fic!!!

It’s early August, day eight of band camp, and _way_ too hot for Donghyuck’s liking.

“Five, six, five, six, seven, eight!” Taeyong counts off at a painstakingly slow tempo, clapping his hands with the beat. He and Ten observe the color guard team as they spin their gold flags in a flurry. The set ends with a small pop-toss, which leaves many of the newcomers scurrying to catch it. Taeyong turns off the metronome, and the practice field is silent save for the sound of people picking up their flags and sheepish mumbles. 

Donghyuck quietly curses as he picks up his pole. Jisung shoots him an encouraging smile from next to him with his flag—which he successfully caught—in his hands. While Donghyuck appreciates it, it’s just a reminder that despite starting at the same time, Jisung is leagues better than him already. Donghyuck looks down at the turf and sighs in self-pity; they’re leaving for away camp in a week but Donghyuck still thinks he looks like a hot mess. Joining color guard in junior year definitely isn’t one of his smarter ideas. He still isn’t sure why Jaemin, Jeno, and Renjun had been so adamant on him joining their school’s marching band this year in particular, but now he’s suffering in the summer heat, a colorful flag in his hand. It could be worse, he supposes.

Everyone quickly falls silent once they return their block formation, attentively looking to Taeyong and Ten for their next direction. The two exchange a glance.

“It was better,” Ten offers with a nod. “It’s early in the season, so I’m proud of you all for releasing the toss; that’s the first step to catching it. For the pole-hit, you need to make sure you really pull with the right hand and catch it firmly.” He grabs the instructor flag lying at his feet, then demonstrates what he was explaining. The flag, which begins parallel to his body, completes one rotation before ending exactly where it began. Donghyuck exhales sharply between his clenched teeth; the things he would give to be able to do something like that so easily.

“Let’s try that set again, okay? Remember to stop after 8 counts,” Taeyong tells the team while unlocking his phone to start the metronome. And with that, Donghyuck readies his flag parallel to his body and listens to the clicks booming through the speaker.

It isn’t until after a few repetitions that they all notice the presence of the marching band and front ensemble, the other (and in Donghyuck’s opinion, lesser) part of the show. Taeyong frowns when he notices the chatter start to grow within the team between reps. Many of them are sneaking glances to the sidelines, exchanging words and waves with the group there. Donghyuck hears Jisung giggle, meaning that Chenle and him are probably mouthing things to each other. And if Chenle is there, Jaemin, Jeno, and Renjun are there in the same group. And if _they_ are there, then the one-and-only, insufferable Mark Lee is there too.

So against his better judgement, he sneaks a glance over to the sidelines, and there he is, Mark _fucking_ Lee, in all his glory. His ragged appearance makes Donghyuck feel a bit better, and he can’t suppress a snicker; Mark is visibly sweating in his black muscle tee, and his face is bright red. He’s wearing an obnoxious neon-yellow visor to keep his blonde mop (that’s the only way Donghyuck will let himself refer to it) out of his face. It’s such a horrendous sight that Donghyuck made sure to take a mental image of him so whenever Mark appears he’ll think of this moment.

All of that sadistic glee is soon replaced with horror when he realizes Mark’s looking at him. _What’re you staring at?_ Donghyuck mouths, jabbing an accusing finger at Mark.

Mark points to himself with a snort, then points at Donghyuck with raised eyebrows. _Could ask you the same,_ he mouths in return. Donghyuck drags his thumb across his neck, and feels his blood boil when he sees Mark laugh. He turns away with a huff. Mark’s lucky Donghyuck isn’t any closer, or he would absolutely smack the lights out of Mark with his flag. Donghyuck instead opts to look at Taeyong and Ten. Taeyong’s clearly holding back a smile while Ten’s groaning to himself while shaking his head.

“Tell your kids to stop distracting _my_ kids!” Ten hollers to Johnny, the band’s director, who’s standing at the front of the crowd on the sidelines. Johnny laughs and twirls his red megaphone between his fingers. 

Johnny brings the megaphone to his lips, knowing Ten hates the piece of plastic more than he hates an unclean show. “Yeah, sorry, okay,” Johnny’s voice booms. He brings it down to shoot Ten a wink, then turns to the horde of sweaty teenagers in front of them to bark orders at them.

“Why does he own that stupid thing if he’s just going to yell at them anyway?” Ten exclaims, looking back at the guard. Most of them giggle in response, expecting Ten to delve into one of his long rants about the megaphone the band staff love to use. 

Taeyong can tell Ten was about to distract the team with a rant, too, so he quickly shouts out to the team, “Three minute water break!” Donghyuck drops his flag—he knows he’ll probably get scolded for not folding the silk properly, but that’s a problem for later—and grabs his jug of ice cold water. He sighs from how good the water feels on his parched throat, a welcomed escape from the August heat. Once he drinks enough, he lets himself topple onto the turf like a ragdoll.

“How’re you doing?” He hears Jaemin ask. He looks up to see Jaemin, who was previously behind him in the block, towering over him.

“Shit,” he lazily replies, rolling his head to the side and picking at the turf. 

“You look pretty good spinning, Hyuck.” 

Donghyuck scoffs. “Don’t say things to be nice. I get it, I look bad right now, but I’ll get better,” Donghyuck says, tacking on a “hopefully” under his breath. 

“I really mean it, Hyuck. For a beginner you’re picking stuff up really fast,” Jaemin insists. Donghyuck sighs; he understands Jaemin is trying to encourage him, but the only person he wants at his pity party is himself. So he plasters on a smile and resumes playing with the plastic bits on the field until Taeyong calls them to grab their flags and begin again. 

Practice continues as usual, which, for Donghyuck, means constantly dropping his flag, mixing up parts, and getting off beat. He can feel shame trickling down his neck—or is it sweat?—and can’t bear to meet Taeyong’s eyes. Donghyuck is _slightly_ ashamed to admit he nearly sprints off of the field after practice; he would’ve run all the way back to the parking lot if he didn’t have to wait for Jaemin and Jisung, who were in turn waiting for Jeno and Renjun so they could leave the field together. The curse of huge friend groups.

Luckily, they weren’t waiting for Mark, who had to help tidy up the drums as part of his job as section leader. 

Really, Donghyuck can’t understand why his friends associate themselves with Mark. He’s obnoxious, stuck-up, and overall just a _prick._ It’s like he finds joy in making Donghyuck’s life a nightmare. He and Donghyuck compete over everything, whether it’s who has higher grades (it’s Mark) or “who could get a date first for homecoming” (also Mark, which is ridiculous because he doesn’t even _go_ to school dances). 

Sure, maybe Donghyuck started it, he would admit that, but Mark’s taken it to a whole different level. He always laughs condescendingly at anything Donghyuck does, and Donghyuck constantly catches Mark staring at him as if judging his every move. If they ever talk, the only things exchanged are insults and threats. 

“Donghyuck? You still with us?” Donghyuck shifts the weight of his flag bag onto his other shoulder and glances at Jeno, who’s staring back at him with furrowed brows. “Is the heat getting to you or something?” 

“Nah, just tired.” It’s the truth; his bones ache and he feels too exhausted to act dramatic or say anything witty in response.

“Drink lots of water for the next week to prep for away camp. It’s brutal,” Jaemin warns. “The weather is nice but Ten and Taeyong work us really hard.”

“Wait, wait, so what exactly _is_ away camp?” Donghyuck’s heard everyone talk about it, but he’s never really gathered anything more than the general name of the off-campus site they would be traveling to. “We’re staying somewhere, so don’t we need roommates or something?”

Jeno’s eyes light up. “It’s one of the best parts of the season! You’re gonna love and hate it, but you’ll get really good!”

“We’ll be roommates, right?” Donghyuck asks, noticing how Jeno avoided the question. “Like I’m not gonna get tossed into some random person’s room?”

“No, not some _random_ person’s room,” Jaemin huffs, “we’re better than that. We just think this would be a good time to, y’know, bond with people.”

Donghyuck blinks at him. “Jaemin, you consistently talk to, like, three people. Why exactly are you giving me the friendship lecture?”

“Okay, first of all, fuck off, it’s like, six,” Jaemin says with a scowl. “It _could_ be more, but I just _choose_ not to—”

“Sure, whatever, can you get to the point?”

Jaemin’s scowl deepens but he concedes. “Fine, well _second_ , we have usual room assignments, but they kinda got mixed up since we have so many newbies. So usually, it’s me, Jeno, Renjun, and Mark to a room.”

“But?” Donghyuck prompts him. Jaemin rolls his eyes.

“ _But_ , it’s three-to-five people to a room. And since I’ve adopted Jisung, he and Chenle are in my room with Jeno.”

“So you’re ditching me for the overgrown sophomore,” Donghyuck deadpans, ignoring Jisung’s indignant “hey!” from behind him. He’s known Jisung since diapers; he’ll live.

“Hyuck, there’s a difference between a child-parent relationship, and a best friend relationship,” Jaemin says. Donghyuck hits him with his flag bag.

“Okay, so you’re dead to me.” Donghyuck turns to Renjun. “Injun! Light of my life, wanna room together?”

Renjun grins. “Only if you bring us cups from your Nongshim Ramen stash.”

Donghyuck glares at him, but Renjun only glares back, the insufferable smirk never leaving his lips.

“I’ll bring four cups,” Donghyuck says finally.

“Five.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Fine!” Donghyuck throws his hands up in resignation. “Who else is going to be in our room?”

“Not sure,” Renjun says in the way that indicates he’s very much sure. “Could be one, could be two, and could be anyone.”

Just as he’s about to argue with that, Donghyuck figures he’s better off just agreeing and letting the topic go. Their roommate will probably be some pit kid that Donghyuck vaguely knows, and they’ll be able to get along fine. “Okay, whatever. I’ll be cool with whoever.”

So the promise Donghyuck made Renjun that he could handle anyone as a roommate? Absolute bullshit. 

He must’ve forgotten about Mark’s very existence, which would usually be a good thing, but not then. Because now all Donghyuck can do is watch helplessly as Mark wheels his suitcase into the cramped room, along with his huge backpack and some other bag Donghyuck can’t make out. He falls onto his bunk with a low _thump_ and squeezes his eyes shut, praying this is just a nightmare. 

“Hey roomie. Didn’t know you liked me so much that you wanted to spend an entire week with me,” An annoyingly familiar voice chirps, and Donghyuck begrudgingly opens his eyes to see Mark leaning on the ladder of Donghyuck’s bunk bed. “I’m sure the next week will be really fun, don’t worry.” Mark smirks , and Donghyuck _really_ wishes he had his flag so he could smack that smirk off of his face. Kicking Mark in the shins will have to do for now, which works, because Mark winces in slight pain and turns away. Donghyuck grins to himself, triumphant, only for it to slip off his face when he once again realizes he’s stuck in close proximity with Mark Lee for seven whole days. 

Living with random people Donghyuck doesn’t know suddenly seems even more appealing than earlier; sure, he has Renjun here, but he also has _Mark._ Donghyuck knows that Johnny won’t let him switch rooms, so he buries his face in his pillows as he tells himself to suck it up and deal with the circumstances.

After unpacking and making the room look less like a tornado had rampaged through it, the color guard and marching band split up to do individual work so they could prepare to combine and learn the show together on a field. Donghyuck knows he’s slowly getting better, considering he can finally catch a pop-toss and is cleared to begin learning a silk toss from later in the show. Ten and Taeyong finally show the entire guard their costumes during a water break, which consisted of silver jeweled suspenders over a white shirt and jeweled slacks, fitting for the show theme of “Priceless.” They explain that also, once competitions began, the costumes would include glitter for their hair, “for that extra pop.” 

When the band and guard are finally dismissed for dinner, Donghyuck makes a checklist: get food, throttle Renjun. The order’s negotiable; if he finds Renjun first, strangling him would feel pretty damn satisfying considering he put Donghyuck in the same room as the person he hates most on the face of the earth.

He ends up not finding Renjun before getting in line for food, so once he heaps his plate with chicken and mashed potatoes, he strolls into the dining hall in search of his friends. He quickly finds them thanks to Chenle’s loud laughter, and plops next to Jaemin with a sigh. 

“Long day?” Jaemin asks. “It’s tiring, I know.”

Donghyuck tenses his shoulders. “Yeah, but it’s worse knowing I have to come back sweaty and gross to fucking Mark Lee in our room,” he spits, angrily stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork. 

“Oh yeah, how’s that going for you?” Jeno asks as if Donghyuck hadn’t just cursed Mark out.

“Renjun might suddenly disappear during camp, and I hope you know it’s because of me,” Donghyuck threatens before finally properly cutting a piece of chicken and stuffing it in his mouth. 

“What about me?” Renjun innocently asks, sliding into the seat across from Donghyuck. 

“Oh, you’re a dead bitch,” Donghyuck snaps, kicking at his feet under the table. “I hope your marimba mallets get stuck up your ass.” Renjun snorts, unfazed, and begins to calmly eat his dinner.

“Damn, kinky,” Chenle remarks from his other side, prompting Donghyuck to punch him in the shoulder. “Jeez, someone’s violent.”

“I really don’t know why you hate him so much,” Jeno says, and Donghyuck wants to scream. He constantly gets asked this, and it’s exhausting. “I’ve known him for a couple years and he always helps me out a lot. He’s honestly a really sweet guy.”

“Just because you’ve known him for a while doesn’t mean you _know_ him,” Donghyuck protests. “Plus, he’s a condescending asshole who thinks he’s better than everyone else!” Donghyuck stabs his mashed potatoes before sticking a forkful in his mouth, trying to focus on how bland they are instead of the demon spawn known as Mark Lee.

“Didn’t _you_ start the whole rivalry thing?” Jisung asks. Donghyuck sighs, not wanting to dignify him with a reply and admit it aloud. He scarfs down the rest of his food, then stands to gather his utensils and plate.

“Going back to take a shower. I’ll be out by nighttime activities.” Donghyuck stalks off towards the counter to turn in dirty dishes, not missing the worried looks his friends are giving each other. Maybe he’s being dramatic, but he isn’t in the mood to get one of their lectures about being nicer to Mark when Mark is clearly part of the problem. 

The refreshing shower helps clear Donghyuck’s thoughts and calm him down. He’s never liked the feeling of sweat clinging to his body—who does?—so it probably contributes to his shitty mood earlier. 

Donghyuck steps outside of the bathroom with a towel loosely hanging around his hips, humming one of the show parts, Ecstasy of Gold. He rummages through his drawer for a pair of shorts and t-shirt he could wear for the night when he hears the door open. Not bothering to turn around, Donghyuck calls out, “Renjun, what do you need?” No reply. Finally finding the outfit wanted, he spins around, only to see Mark staring at Donghyuck’s half-naked body, mouth agape and eyes wide. He’s frozen, his hand still on the doorknob. 

“Uh?” Mark squeaks, the tips of his ears turning red. 

“Fuck.” Donghyuck blinks at Mark for a second before throwing his shorts at Mark, only for them to fall just a few feet away from him. “Get _out_ , stop staring at me!” Donghyuck shrieks. That seems to shake Mark out of his stupor, who continues to apologize until he’s left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. 

Donghyuck stomps over to grab his shorts from the floor, sighing as he sinks down into his bunk. It’s the first day, yet he’s already certain he can’t take much more of this.

Donghyuck makes sure to wake up extra early the next day so he can get dressed and sneak out without any more uncomfortable occurrences. He brings scissors, glue, his coordinate pages, and his small dotbook with him into the main room of the dorms. No one else is insane enough to be awake at 6 A.M, so Donghyuck sits in the middle of the area, cutting and pasting the pages into his dotbook. The words written in small font don’t make much sense to him—‘side 2, two steps in 35 yd ln, three steps behind front hash,’ for example—but he figures he can ask Jaemin during breakfast. Jaemin and Jeno had apologized for pushing Donghyuck a bit too much about the whole Mark situation the night before, so Donghyuck and them are back to normal. They’re usually pretty understanding, anyways, but sometimes they get too insistent for Donghyuck to handle. 

After thirty minutes of mindless cutting and glueing, Donghyuck hears footsteps behind him. He glances over his shoulder to see who it is, and is greeted with the sight of Mark in a pale pink sweatshirt. The hood’s up, hiding his tousled hair; Mark must’ve just woken up, and a part of Donghyuck feels proud for being up earlier than ‘perfect-boy’ Mark. 

“What’re you doing here at ass o’clock?” Mark asks , rubbing an eye with one of his hands, a five-gallon water bottle in the other. He yawns, the hoodie riding up and exposing a sliver of skin.

“What’s it to you?” Donghyuck snaps, but his words quickly lose their bite when he, too, yawns. “Fuck you.” 

“Yeah, okay.” Mark turns to leave, absentmindedly swinging his water bottle. He pushes the door open and leaves the dorms, plunging Donghyuck into silence once again. Donghyuck groans and redirects his gaze to his sheets for each set of the show. They only need to have part one finished for today, but he’s barely half-way done. 

Donghyuck’s so engrossed in finishing his dotbook that he doesn’t notice Mark sudden reappearance, leaning over his shoulder. When he feels a presence there, as if someone’s breathing down his neck, he looks to the side and yelps at how close Mark’s face was to his. 

“Chill,” Mark says with a shit-eating grin. He draws back a few inches, giving Donghyuck to catch his breath. “You know, you could’ve just done this weeks ago when they first sent out coordinate sheets.” Mark walks away as Donghyuck runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Mark’s right, Donghyuck _could’ve_ , but Donghyuck’s also a master procrastinator. Plus, doing the tedious work is enough to give him an excuse to leave the room early, and somewhat distract himself from the hell of a situation he’s stuck in. “By the way,” Donghyuck hears Mark say from a distance, and Donghuck cranes his neck to see Mark standing outside their room, hand on the doorknob. “Warmups are in 15 minutes. Get changed.” He then opens the door and disappears inside. 

Donghyuck looks back down at his mess of a dotbook, the coordinate sheets hastily glued in and set pictures barely held onto the pages. He snaps it shut and crumples the scraps in his hands. Today’s the first full day of camp, and he can already tell it’s going to be a grade A level Bitch™.

Warmups are always fine, nothing too hard. Just simple stretches, some push-ups, and a plank. It isn’t too hot yet since the sun was still hidden behind clouds, so Donghyuck can even go as far as to say it’s pretty fun. But once the band and guard separate to do individual warmups, any semblance of relaxation is quickly replaced with dread. 

Sicheng, one of the two guard captains, starts the team off with wrist strengthening exercises with the flags. While it seems like most people around him are strong enough to do the exercise from the bottom of the pole, Donghyuck struggles to keep his flag up while holding the pole at the bottom cheater, about two-thirds down the pole. By the time they’re dismissed for breakfast, Donghyuck’s already sore, sweaty, and disheartened. 

“Hyuck, you’ll be fine, it’s the first day,” Jaemin says in between chews of his french toast sticks. Hyuck responds with a drawn out sigh, which was cut off by Jaemin stuffing a French toast stick in his mouth. “Eat.” Donghyuck shot him a withering glare before begrudgingly chewing it. It was good, but Donghyuck was more concerned with wallowing in self pity than eating. 

“You need to stay hydrated and eat well,” Jeno explains as if he had read Donghyuck’s mind. “People always end up passing out if they don’t because of how hot it is.”

“Yeah, and you don’t have any more brain cells to lose if you smack your head on the ground,” Renjun adds, not looking up from his marimba music spread out in front of him. Jisung and Chenle giggle as Donghyuck rolls his eyes. 

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine. Only idiots would pass out,” Donghyuck says before gulping half of his glass of water. “See? Healthy lifestyle.”

“Hardworking idiots, Hyuck,” Jaemin points out. “Just make sure to drink water throughout the day and stuff, okay? All of you.” Jaemin makes eye contact with everyone sitting at the table, who all nod. 

“By the way, how do you read the number things in the index card books?” Jisung asks from the corner of the table. Renjun, Jaemin, and Jeno look at him, all three of them clearly puzzled. 

“ _Oh_ , the coords?” Renjun points to Jisung’s dotbook, and Jisung nods. Donghyuck silently thanks Jisung for asking. “Pit doesn’t need coords because we just stand at the front, so…” He glances over at Jeno.

“Well, first, coordinate sheets tell you where you’re supposed to be during a certain part of the show,” Jeno explains, trying to articulate what he’s saying through gestures. “For each set you’re usually moving to a certain spot, which are called dots. For guard, you guys might stay in a set for a long period of time, which is called a standing set.” Before Jeno can continue, Lucas, one of the drum majors, stands up and claps his hands to signal the end of breakfast. Jisung’s expression morphs into one of pure panic and Jeno curses under his breath. “Good luck, you’ll be fine,” he says, smiling somewhat sympathetically at Jisung. Jisung whimpers while Donghyuck’s shoulders just slumps in defeat. 

After two more hours of individual practice and learning choreography that Donghyuck’s still having difficulty fully memorizing, the guard team treks up the hill leading to the makeshift practice field. The band’s there, with Lucas and Yuqi standing on tall metal podiums, conducting. 

“Pit isn’t here,” Jisung mumbles from next to him. 

“You’ll see Chenle in, like, an hour for lunch,” Donghyuck tells him with a roll of his eyes. “You two are so clingy.”

“You would be too if you dated someone,” Jisung shoots back without any bite. Donghyuck opens his mouth, then promptly closes it because yes, Jisung’s right, but he’s not about to admit it.

Donghyuck glances over to where Ten and Taeyong are talking with Johnny. His instructors nod, Taeyong then turning toward the team to shout, “Guys, go over the show and your dots! Make sure your dotbook is secure around your neck or waist!” He then resumes watching the band with Johnny and Ten, leaving the team alone to practice. 

“Do you guys want to do practice in a block or go over parts individually?” Yerim, the other captain, calls out to everyone. A chorus of “individually” ripples through the team. She nods, then flicked her wrist to let people divide into groups. 

Donghyuck grabs his dotbook from his pocket and ties it around his waist using the bungee cord the instructors had passed out earlier that day. He’s in the middle of double knotting it when someone comes up behind him and taps his shoulder with a flag. He whirls around to see Jaemin and Jisung, both of them clutching their blue flags. “Wanna practice?” he asks Donghyuck. Donghyuck nods and follows Jaemin and Jisung to an empty patch of grass at the edge of the field. Donghyuck glances at the band, who are running through some sets. He quickly spots Jeno about 20 yards away from him, towards the center of the field. He’s carrying his bass drum and watching the drum majors intently as he steps and sings what Donghyuck assumed is his part. Donghyuck can’t help but wonder how they’ll sound once they finally play; since they’ve come up to the field, Donghyuck hasn’t heard them play through the music, only a few notes here and there. 

“Sung, look! Mark’s on the prop! He’s gonna have a solo here!” Donghyuck hears Jaemin exclaim to Jisung. He rolled his eyes, but sneaks a glance towards Mark anyways. Mark’s indeed on the wooden structure, holding his sticks right above his tenor drums and miming playing. He looks so focused that it takes Donghyuck aback; he’s so used to seeing Mark and his cockily smirks and smiles. This is a whole different person. 

The band finally finish their set, and Johnny’s voice fills the field as he calls out feedback and instructions. 

As Mark climbs off the prop to get to his new dot, Donghyuck notices his bright smile, and how he’s practically glowing, completely in his element. His stomach lurches painfully at the sight, jealousy coursing through him. There’s Mark, setting up in his dot with the most elated expression Donghyuck has ever seen, and Donghyuck can’t even get his flag choreography right.

“Okay, where should we start?” Jaemin asks, bringing Donghyuck out of his mini Mark-slash-self-loathing session. He nods and jogs behind where Jaemin's standing.

“Can we start at the opening of part one?” Donghyuck asks. “I can’t get the drop spin-flourish move right.”

Jaemin nods. “From the top! Ready?” Jisung and Donghyuck reply in affirmation. “Five, six, five, six, seven, eight!”

The band needing extra help on their sets is truly a blessing in disguise, because it means a whole extra hour of learning choreography, and having all of lunch to learn his dots. Normally, he would feel bad about doing this all so late, but that would mean having to concede to what Mark told him earlier that day about procrastinating. As they sit down for lunch, Jisung’s doing the same thing, using one hand to flip through his dotbook and the other to eat, so Donghyuck doesn’t feel _as_ guilty. 

Based on what he’s seen while watching the band, he could probably guess his dots well enough to get away with it until he has the chance to properly learn the positions of everything on the field. He would absolutely get scolded, but if he could survive the next two or three hours, it would be alright. Tomorrow morning he could get up early again and learn his dots. 

“You guys don’t need to do choreo if you don't feel comfortable with it yet. So if you’re a rookie, don’t worry about it; just focus on the dots. Don’t be afraid to check your dotbook,” Ten instructs the guard. “Start in your opening set.” He then shoos them all away to get into position. Donghyuck glances down at his dotbook.

 _Side 2, 30 yard line, front hash._ Donghyuck glances up at the field, trying to picture where that would be.

Jaemin taps his shoulder. “You’re guard eight, right?” Donghyuck nods. “I’m on the yardline next to you. Our left is side two.” He jogs over to the 35, then points to the 30 for Donghyuck. Donghyuck can feel his cheeks heat up as he copies where Jaemin is standing, just shifted over a yardline. He nods in thanks, then looks up towards the drum majors.

“Set! Starting from the top of the show!” Lucas calls out, raising his hands up to begin. Donghyuck twists his pole in his hands, his hands already clammy. For some reason, he has a sinking feeling this is going to be a disaster.

And a disaster it is. Donghyuck has never felt more incompetent as he stumbles during sets, crashes into veteran band _and_ guard members, and overall, looks like a mess. He notices the judgemental glances Mark shoots at him and the pitying looks of whoever’s around him at the moment. If Jeno, Jaemin, or Renjun are near him for a certain set, they have Donghyuck show them his dotbook and instruct him where to go for the next set. Donghyuck feels utterly humiliated, to the point that he would’ve skipped dinner to mope if it wasn’t for Jaemin’s nagging. He’s silent for all of dinner, focusing on poking at his food instead of the way his friends are exchanging concerned glances. He eats a few bites before leaving with the excuse of “I really need to shower.” It isn’t a total lie, but he doesn’t want to be in the suffocating dining hall for a minute longer.

After showering, and this time thankfully without any unfortunate intrusions, he still has about ten minutes to spare until everyone comes back from dinner to get ready for night activities. He’s already dressed, so with the extra time left, he decides to sulk on his bed. 

Why couldn’t he have learned what everything on his coordinate sheet meant before they actually ran parts of the show with the band? It really would’ve made everything much easier. Jaemin had told Donghyuck while they were walking to dinner that “ _no_ , no one’s staring at you, they’re all too busy worrying about if they’re gonna get to their own spots,” but Donghyuck can’t shake that feeling of being judged by none other than Mark.

He had seen Mark smirking at him from the corner of his eye during one of the sets when Mark was a yardline away from Donghyuck. It was a standing one, which meant he had to spin his flag with the work for that section: a simple drop spin, then a pop-toss. The first time they ran the set, he had dropped his toss. It wasn’t until the third time they ran the set that he caught it. But he had felt Mark’s gaze on him when he was practicing the toss between runs, and it was _humiliating_. The last thing Donghyuck wants to do is to see Mark pitying him, which is likely to happen once Mark steps into the room.

“Hyuck? You in here?” Donghyuck springs up and yanks the door open. Jaemin and Jeno are standing at the entrance, both not bothering to hide their worry. 

“Can we go to your room?” Donghyuck asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer; he just grabs their arms and pulls them towards their own room. Yanking the door open, Donghyuck throws himself onto the nearest bunk, which Donghyuck assumes was Jisung’s, based on the blue dotbook he sees on the sheets.

“Are you okay?” Jeno asks hesitantly, eyeing Donghyuck. 

“Just don’t want to deal with Mark Lee,” he says with a grimace. “Marching band is the biggest mistake of my _life_!”

Jeno and Jaemin look at each other, then burst out laughing. Donghyuck glares at them, throwing Jisung’s pillow Jaemin’s head, while ignoring the small “Hyuck!” Jisung exclaims from Chenle’s bunk above him. 

“You sound exactly like me back when I started,” Jeno explains, still giggling. 

“And me,” Jaemin adds. “I wouldn’t admit it, but I hated marching at first because I was so _shit_ at it. Happens to everyone.”

“Just keep practicing, Hyuck. You’ll get the hang of it; it’s technically still your first day at away camp. It’s gonna get better.” Jeno smiles gently at Donghyuck. Donghyuck lets out a drawn out sigh, then finally nods.

It’s painful dragging himself out of bed the next morning. The soreness is really beginning to hit, especially in his arms and the side of his hip, where he now has a bruise forming. But he knows that if he doesn’t take the time to learn his dots, practice will be just as humiliating as the day before, if not more. He also makes sure to change before leaving; that way, Mark won’t have to tell him, and Donghyuck wants to keep all interactions with Mark at a minimum.

He leaves the dorms as the sun barely begins to rise, and jogs to the practice field. He remembers seeing some of the band kids painting yard lines onto the field, but not the yard numbers, which complicates Donghyuck’s plan to slowly run through his spots for the first part of the show. Donghyuck glances around the area, hoping to find something that he could use to mark the 50 yard line. In the corner of the field, he notices a large tree branch, so grabs that and sets it at the center line, making a silent promise to remove it before warm-ups start. He then flips his dotbook open and uses his phone for additional light. 

“Side 2, 30 yard line, front hash,” he reads. He tries to picture where Jaemin stood. It was definitely the left side of the field. “30 yard line,” he loudly muses to himself as he estimates the number of lines from the 50. He then settles on what he thinks is the 30 yard line.

“You’re on the 35,” a voice calls out, and Donghyuck jumps with a squeak, dropping his phone. He bends down to pick it up, then glances up at the person; the only other person that would be awake this early in the morning.

“What do you want?” Donghyuck asks him, irritation creeping into his voice. “I’m trying to practice.”

“And _I’m_ trying to get drum major for next year,” Mark replies, nonplussed. He gestures to the wagon full of yard markers before dropping the handle next to the front side line. “Gotta try hard for it, y’know.” 

“Sure, whatever,” Donghyuck mumbles with the wave of his hand. “I’m busy.” He then redirects his attention to his dotbook, squinting at the pages.

“You don’t know what to do, do you?” Mark asks, sounding too accusatory for Donghyuck’s liking.

“Can you leave? I’m trying to _learn_ what to do, and you’re distracting me,” Donghyuck finally snaps at him. Mark chuckles and strides over to Donghyuck, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. He grasps Donghyuck’s dotbook from where it’s dangling around his waist, then tilts it so he can better see the pages, his fingers overlapping with Donghyuck’s and his breath _way_ too close to Donghyuck’s neck. Right as Donghyuck is about to push him away, Mark pulls away, chewing on his lip.

“Okay, crash course: yard lines are exactly what you’ll see on the signs. If you’re facing the front side line, inside is to the left of the yard line towards the 50, outside is to the right. Steps are more defined for band kids, but since you’re guard, it should be just regular steps. They’re pretty lax about steps, I think. Front sideline is what it sounds like, front hash is the hash behind it, back hash is the hash behind it, and guard usually doesn’t go to the back sideline. Got it?” He looks at Donghyuck expectantly. Donghyuck blinks, trying to process the overload of information.

“Um,” he finally says, glancing down at his dotbook and then up at Mark. “Sorta?”

Mark sighs. “Okay, lemme see your dotbook again; I’ll walk you through your dots for the first part.”

Just as Donghyuck is about to hand Mark the small book, he draws back. “Why are you helping me?” He demands, searching Mark’s face for ulterior motives.

“Don’t think I’m doing this for you,” Mark scoffs. “I’m doing this for the sake of our show so you’re not a complete mess on the field.”

“Asshole,” Donghyuck spits, hitting Mark with his dotbook. Mark shrugs.

“Normally, this is where I would leave, but you have 30 minutes to figure out what the fuck you’re doing, and there’s no way you can do it alone. Also, if I have to deal with another night of you looking so damn mopey on your bunk, I might pull my hair out.” Donghyuck’s eyes involuntarily widen at that.

“Why the hell would you pay attention to me moping on my bunk?” Donghyuck crosses his arms and glares at Mark.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” Mark says with a snort. “You're in my room, Donghyuck. I’m not blind. Now do you want to fix this or not?”

“Don’t you have anything else to do?” Donghyuck says in reply. He isn’t sure why he’s being so resistant to Mark’s help, but then again, it’s Mark Lee, and Donghyuck’s always been the stubborn one of the two.

“Not really. I only have to fill up my water bottle, but that can wait; I can fill it up during breakfast. Now give me your dotbook before I lose my mind.” Donghyuck sighs in defeat, then finally complies.

The thirty minutes aren’t as bad as Donghyuck expects it to be. Mark is strangely patient with him, gently correcting him if he arrives at the incorrect dot, and complimenting him when he gets it correct. A nagging voice in the back of Donghyuck’s brain warns him that Mark is just being sarcastic, but he ends up pushing it away in favor of making sure he can actually march correctly. During breakfast, when Donghyuck glances through his dotbook, the coordinate sheets don’t seem as harrowing as they did earlier. 

“How long has Mark marched?” Donghyuck finds himself asking Jaemin as they’re all putting their dishes away. 

“Since freshman year. I think he started on flute, then switched to battery in sophomore year. Why? Interested?” Jaemin raises his eyebrows at Donghyuck, looking entirely too pleased for Donghyuck’s liking.

“Please. You wish. _He_ wishes.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes before setting down his dishes and thanking the workers. Jaemin mumbles something behind him that sounded vaguely like “yeah, he does.”

“What?” Donghyuck snaps his head up to fix Jaemin with a strange look, who slinks back. He laughs nervously.

“You should go fill up your water bottle. I should go check up on Jeno, bye!” He then sprints away, leaving Donghyuck blinking at where he once stood. He entertains the thought of what Jaemin had said for a second, then pushes it away in favor of running through the part one choreography in his head.

Maybe it’s the boost of confidence Donghyuck got from finally understanding what felt like the hardest part about guard, but regardless, the hours of practice up until lunch feel much easier compared to the previous day. He’s learning and understanding the work quicker than before, and even sees Ten nodding approvingly at him. So by lunch time, Donghyuck’s practically skipping to his seat in glee, an enormous smile plastered on his face.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Renjun says. “What for?”

“I had a good rehearsal, _and_ I understand my coordinate sheet!” Donghyuck explains brightly. Jaemin throws his arms around him in a tight hug while Renjun slowly claps. 

“Not bad, Hyuck. Nice job.”

“Can you explain it to me later?” Jisung asks hopefully. “I still don’t really get it.” Donghyuck nods, giving him a thumbs-up before digging into his food.

They fall back into mindless chatter, talking about everything from rehearsal to the horrible internet connection at the camp. A few minutes before lunch ends, Lucas stands up to make an announcement. He claps his hands, and the entire hall falls silent. “Reminder that it is getting _hot_ outside and you all need to stay hydrated so you don't faint! It’s very important to be eating and drinking well and overall taking care of yourselves!” He glares pointedly at Mark, who turns bright red. He then sits down, allowing everyone to begin talking again.

“Oh yeah, Mark passed out during rehearsal,” Jeno explains with a frown. “Kinda weird since you’d expect vets to be better about the whole ‘self-care’ thing, but I guess they have more of a tendency to overwork themselves. Johnny isn’t letting him participate in rehearsal for the rest of the day, I think.” Donghyuck’s throat goes dry as he feels his previous elation be replaced by guilt, and another emotion he can’t place. It’s gnawing away at him, uncomfortably so. 

“I’ll be right back,” Donghyuck says, pushing himself away from the table and making a beeline towards Mark. Mark notices him coming, and watches Donghyuck with furrowed brows.

“What do you need?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Did you not fill up your water bottle because you were helping me this morning?” Donghyuck asks, internally grimacing at the way his voice sounds more concerned than he feels—or at least he thinks he feels. 

“It’s fine, Donghyuck,” Mark mutters, getting up to put away his dishes. Donghyuck grabs onto Mark’s arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“Did you or did you not?” Donghyuck grips Mark’s arm a bit tighter, staring directly at Mark. Mark visibly gulps before shifting his gaze down to where Donghyuck is holding his arm, then looks in another direction.

“I didn’t fill it up enough. It’s not a big deal, I’m literally fine. Why would you care, anyways?” Mark rips his arm away from Donghyuck and raises his eyebrows at the latter. 

“Idiot.” Donghyuck turns on his heels and stalks off. Honestly, he isn’t sure why he’s so worked up over this, since Mark is clearly alright; there’s no reason for him to feel guilty, yet the feeling has settled in the pit of his stomach, nasty and unwelcome. He decides to try to cover it up with excitement, because for the next few hours, it’s full ensemble rehearsal, which means he can finally see if his choreography practice and his work will pay off. It’s only partially successful, and any attempts to ignore the feeling are quickly washed out whenever he makes eye contact with Mark while they’re setting up the field.

When Lucas shouts “Set!” from his podium with his arms poised, ready to begin the first movement, Donghyuck squeezes his flagpole, determined to perform the work while hitting his dots. He feels confident enough that despite the tricky placement of a few of his dots, he can continue the work with ease. He made sure to ask Taeyong and Ten any questions he had about the first part, and is intent on impressing them (and maybe Mark, too, but for purely competitive reasons).

When Lucas finishes the first movement, he hollers, “Check and adjust!” Donghyuck watches as nearly everyone around him shifts to their correct dot, some people even moving entire yard lines over. It all only makes his grin widen when he stays in the exact same place, since he had hit his dot perfectly. He only misses two dots the entire run, and both by a mere few steps. He manages to do nearly the entire work as well, and though he fumbles with a few of the trickier parts and has to chase after one of his tosses, he doesn’t feel as discouraged as the day before. Now that he has the confidence for marching itself, everything’s beginning to fall in place.

He knows, honestly, that he couldn’t have improved so much without Mark and his careful teaching that morning. But he would never say that outloud, much less to Mark’s face, so he resorts to silently thanking him and hopes Mark knows how much he had helped Donghyuck

“Reset!” 

Donghyuck jogs back to his starting dot, and quickly notices Taeyong running over with the brightest smile Donghyuck has ever seen from him. 

“Donghyuck!” He shouts in pure glee, him in a hug. “You looked _incredible_! Everything was so gracefully done! Your steps were so even and I didn’t see you miss any dots! It was perfect!” He breaks away from Donghyuck, and Donghyuck giggles, adrenaline coursing through his veins. “Keep it up, Hyuckie!” Donghyuck can’t help but smile at the nickname. He nods at Taeyong, who gives him one last thumbs up before running over to Ten to get off the field before the next rep. Donghyuck locks eyes with Ten, who silently clapped with a beam. 

Donghyuck’s eyes then involuntarily flit over to the other person on the sideline, sitting down and sipping from a jug of water. Mark’s watching Donghyuck with an expression Donghyuck thinks is a mixture of awe and pride. Before he can look closer to reassess his assumption, Mark shifts his gaze to Lucas, and based on the way the tips of his ears are a faint red, he had noticed Donghyuck caught him staring. Donghyuck tries to smirk, just to be cocky, but ends up breaking into a giddy smile. 

“Set!” 

Donghyuck readies his flag, the adrenaline and compliments giving him an overwhelming surge of confidence, the most he’s felt since he started color guard. 

After emerging from a long shower—which he would normally feel a bit guilty for, but he figured he deserved it today—Donghyuck sits on his bunk and dries his hair with a towel, his phone perched on one leg to read through his Twitter timeline for lack of any better entertainment. Once his hair is suitably dry, he throws the towel onto one side of his bed, then lies down on the other side of it, still absentmindedly scrolling through Twitter. His timeline stops refreshing after a few minutes, thanks to the spotty connection, leaving Donghyuck entertainment-less. He drops his phone onto his chest with a groan; they have nighttime activities in half an hour, and he can’t waste the time in Jaemin and Jeno’s room because they had specifically told him not to come in until after the activities. They had probably kicked out Chenle and Jisung as well, because Donghyuck had seen the two playing some kind of card game with Renjun in the main room.

He hears shuffling from the other end of the room, and cranes his neck to see Mark opening up the case of some instrument. He sits up, watching as Mark pulls out an acoustic guitar. He plucks at a few strings and fiddles with the tuning knobs. Once he deems the guitar in-tune, he begins to strum a few chords. Donghyuck, entranced, scoots forward. “You play?” 

Mark laughs, not taking his eyes off of the guitar. “I’ve been playing for a few years, yeah.” He begins to play a melody, and after a minute, Donghyuck finally recognizes it. 

“That’s part two!” He exclaims, pleased with himself. 

“Took you long enough,” Mark replies with a roll of his eyes. He continues playing the melody while Donghyuck hums. It’s so uncharacteristic of them to do something like this, singing and talking so naturally, that Donghyuck nearly forgets this was the same Mark Lee he has hated for the past two years. “You looked good today,” Mark suddenly says.

Donghyuck freezes, his humming coming to a halt. “What?”

Mark tenses up and pauses mid-strum, realizing how his words came out. “I mean like, during ensemble rehearsal. You looked good.” He lightly chuckles, staring down at the fingerboard as he swallows in embarrassment. 

“Yeah, I saw you staring,” Donghyuck says with a snort.

Mark flushes bright red and tries to sputter out a multitude of protests, to no avail. He finally resorts to smiling at Donghyuck and for the first time, it doesn’t feel condescending. It’s a genuine smile, boyish and cute. Donghyuck returns it, surprising himself. There he is: within the span of 24 hours, he’s gone from cursing Mark Lee and the land he walks on to smiling and talking to him. Donghyuck bites his lip as he reassesses the situation, suddenly feeling unsure; his feelings shouldn’t be changing so quickly, not when he’s spent years building up this wall between them. Mark must’ve noticed the change in expression, because he asks Donghyuck, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck mumbles, unable to meet Mark’s eyes, instead picking on a loose thread at the hem of his blanket. He doesn’t say anything further, letting the silence hang between them. He doesn’t trust Mark, not with his stupid smiles that suddenly seem way too innocent for someone that’s been a pain in the ass for three years now.

“Look, Donghyuck,” Mark finally says, somewhat hesitantly, “can we just have a truce?”

Donghyuck blinks. “Why now?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at Mark. “You seemed to be enjoying making fun of me yesterday. I _saw_ you judging me!” If he wasn’t sure Mark had some kind of hidden motive, then he is now, because there’s no other explanation for this seemingly random suggestion. 

Mark’s mouth falls open. “I—what—no!” he sputters. “That’s not—I wasn’t—” his cheeks are a bright, cherry red when he finally shuts up, pursing his lips to stop himself from saying anything more. 

Donghyuck peers at his red face in fascination, unsure if he’s ever seen Mark like this in the last few years. 

“Look,” Mark says, rubbing at his cheeks as if willing the blush away, “can’t we just leave the past behind us for, I don’t know, the rest of away camp or something?” 

Donghyuck pushes himself up from the bed and walks towards Mark, studying him intensely. “You’re planning something, and I’m going to find out what,” Donghyuck threatens, jabbing a finger into Mark’s chest. “You went from asshole-y to nice in less than 24 hours. I know something’s up.”

“I’m not always out to get you, you know,” Mark replies with a roll of his eyes. He pushes away Donghyuck’s fingers and leans on his guitar, draping his arms over the body. “Look, I’m just saying, we’re roommates for the next few days, and you need help and I can give you that help. That’s all.”

Donghyuck processes Mark’s words and weighs the options: he can either be on bad terms with Mark and lose someone who can continue to help him look like less of a mess on the field, or he can deal with Mark’s presence for a week and hopefully be good enough that he’ll never need to talk to Mark again. Donghyuck sharply exhales. “One wrong move and it’s off, got it?” 

“Fine, but same conditions for you. I don’t need you ‘accidentally’ spilling coffee on me again like last year,” Mark shoots back. 

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“Great!”

“Perfect!”

“Splendid!”

Mark sighs and holds out his hand. “Shake on it.”

Donghyuck scowls down at it for a few seconds, and Mark thrusts it towards him expectantly. Slumping his shoulders, he finally gives in and shakes it. “Truce.” He steps away from Mark, surveying him. Mark’s never looked as threatening up close. Whenever he hears about the great Mark Lee, either from rumors flitting around the school or from his friends, he always imagines Mark towering over him with a scowl on his face, eyes entirely too mocking for Donghyuck’s liking. But now all he sees is Mark in an oversized pink hoodie, his fingers dancing over the fret of his guitar as he looks up at Donghyuck. Donghyuck, finally realizing the two are caught in some kind of staring contest, looks away. Confusion bubbles in his stomach as he tries to compare these two versions, placing them side by side in his head, comparing them and flipping them around until he can finally mold them into one.

There’s a third version, the one that’s been suppressed after years, but it isn’t like Donghyuck’s going to tackle that whole issue. Not yet. It isn’t Donghyuck’s fault that Mark decided in sixth grade that it would be high time to move all the way to South Korea, leaving him alone in hallways that seemed entirely too big for him, oversized like the sweatshirts he and Mark used to share.

Logically, it isn’t Mark’s fault either, but it’s easier to blame him anyways. 

“Dude, you okay? You’re just standing there; do you wanna sit down or something?” Mark pats the empty area next to him. Donghyuck hesitantly sits down, though a foot away from Mark for good measure. Mark just glances at him with a raised brow, then continues to play another part of their show on guitar. Donghyuck recognizes it as the part they were working on during rehearsal, and his mind immediately jumps back to earlier that day, when Jeno had told him about Mark fainting during rehearsal.

“How are you, by the way?” Donghyuck asks him, intently focusing on Mark’s strumming to avoid having to make eye contact.

Mark’s fingers falter, tripping over themselves for a moment. “What?”

“I mean the whole like, you passing out thing. Are you okay?” Donghyuck finally manages out. “I guess it’s kinda my fault so… sorry.” 

Donghyuck watches as Mark’s fingers come to a stop, hovering slightly above the strings.

“What?” Mark repeats again, owlishly blinking up at Donghyuck.

“I mean, like,” Donghyuck tries to start, before falling silent. “Nevermind.” It’s strangely difficult to get the words out, perhaps a product of years of building up this hatred towards Mark. 

“Do you actually think me fainting was your fault?” Mark asks incredulously with a snort. “Dude, I can’t count the amount of times I’ve nearly passed out during camps and competitions. You’re fine. I just have a habit of not drinking enough water.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” Donghyuck huffs. “You should still drink water, you know.”

Mark squints his eyes at Donghyuck and Donghyuck draws back, finally meeting his gaze. “Look at you, caring about my well-being? Who are you and what did you do with Lee Donghyuck?”

“I’m only saying this because I don’t want to feel bad. Don’t get the wrong idea,” Donghyuck scoffs. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not, _Hyuck,_ ” Mark replies, dragging out the nickname. Donghyuck wrinkles his nose.

“Don’t call me that,” he whines with a kick to Mark’s calf. “We’re not friends; just forced acquaintances.” 

Mark just snickers. “Okay, Hyuck.” He then returns his attention back to his guitar with a wide, insufferable grin. Donghyuck quietly groans to himself, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. Only six more days of this, and he won’t have to be in this close proximity of Mark again.

Waking up early the following days isn’t as difficult. Donghyuck always wakes up motivated, ready to learn his dots for whatever part of the show they would be running that day. It only takes him three days to have all of his dots down, which means he just had to work on choreography until he could do it with ease. Mark shows up a few times, usually to check on Donghyuck’s progress. He never stays for longer than 15 minutes, much to Donghyuck’s relief. He would glance down at Donghyuck’s dotbook, watch as Donghyuck ran through his dots, then toss the book back at Donghyuck with a satisfied nod.

Donghyuck never misses the way Mark always has his water bottle with him, nor the way he can hear the water sloshing around in it. It seems that Mark took Donghyuck’s poorly-concealed concern to heart. Or maybe he’s just finally come to his senses, deciding that fainting during rehearsal and missing precious time is something he can’t afford to do again. It’s likely the latter, but a part of Donghyuck preens at the thought of being able to have some sort of impact on golden boy Mark Lee, even without having to use insults.

Donghyuck also notices that everyday since the night they declared a truce, Mark always takes out his guitar before curfew to play. Renjun will lie on his bunk and hum along to whatever Mark’s quietly singing, and Donghyuck often finds himself doing the same. It’s something calming that Donghyuck appreciated after the exhausting days.

As camp stretches on, Donghyuck can feel his walls begin to crumble, Mark chipping away at them with encouraging smiles and gentle compliments. It’s all a bit surreal to him, and if he thinks he’s the one freaking out, then it’s really nothing compared to the rest of his friends.

On the fifth day of camp, Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun and him are walking back to the dorms after their night activity. Donghyuck quietly sings something one of the seniors had played for the talent show, staring at the stars and tuning out whatever conversation the other three are having. A nudge shook him out of his reverie, prompting him to shoot the culprit, Renjun, a glare. 

“You and Mark seem to be getting along better,” he comments curiously, as if trying to prod Donghyuck to elaborate. Donghyuck doesn’t take the bait, though, only offering Renjun a noncommittal hum before redirecting his attention back up to the sky. Renjun launches into some spiel that Donghyuck couldn’t care less about, so he continues mapping out constellations in the sky, nodding whenever there seems to be a pause in Renjun’s ramble.

“Glad we cleared that up, I learned a lot about your relationship. Looking forward to your wedding; I require 20% of your future salary for my therapy from the pain you guys have caused me.” Renjun claps Donghyuck on the back, and he registers Jeno and Jaemin’s snickers before he realizes what Renjun had said.

Donghyuck freezes. “The fuck?” The trio in front of him burst out laughing as Donghyuck stands, stock-still. “Gross! What the hell, Injun! I have taste, you know. “

Renjun shrugs, clearly not feeling guilty. “You should’ve been paying attention,” he explains cheekily. “I'll get Chenle and Jisung working on the wedding invites soon. Don’t forget about the salary allotments when you’re doing your taxes five years from now.” He turns away, but before he can walk any further, Donghyuck runs up and launches himself onto Renjun’s back, who yelps at the sudden weight on his back.

“Injun,” Donghyuck whines with a harsh poke to his shoulder blades, “I promise I’ll pay attention this time, just don’t joke about that because that’s nasty.” Renjun rolls his eyes, and Donghyuck jumps off his back with an excited “yes!” Renjun shakes his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“Pay attention, because I’m not repeating this,” he warns.

“Okay, okay.”

“Mark wants to fuck you.” Donghyuck halts in his tracks for the second time that night, attention torn between his own mind running at a mile a minute and the panicked looks Jeno and Jaemin are exchanging. They’re side-eyeing Renjun and mouthing something Donghyuck can’t quite make out, because too much of his brain power is being consumed with processing the words that had just come carelessly flying out of Renjun’s mouth.

“Injun, phrase it nicely,” Jeno squeaks as Jaemin cackles in the background. 

“He literally hates me,” is the first thing that tumbles from Donghyuck’s lips, which isn’t a bad start, he has to admit. “I _hate_ him. I really don’t want that, _never_ , gross.” He cuts off his own tirade with a gag.

Renjun sighs, glaring at Jeno before looking back at Donghyuck. “Okay, okay, maybe I said it too upfront.” 

“I mean, you’d be surprised,” Jaemin piped up. “I’ve heard everyone in battery’s fuck—”

“ _J_ _aemin_ , don’t expose everyone right now,” Jeno chides, but his ears are flushed.

“Hyuck’s a baby band kid, he needs to know about the dangers of horny band kids and the band bus!” 

“What the hell, guys,” Donghyuck says with a stifled laugh. He crouches down onto the pavement and buries his head in his hands. “Just, I really don’t like Mark. Even as a friend. We just have a truce thing.” He looks up at the other three, who are watching him with unreadable expressions.

“I’m just telling you what I saw,” Renjun carefully says. “You’re being kinda dumb right now, but I know away camp can be stressful, so I’ll let you off the hook now. Just this once, though, got it?” He eyes Donghyuck with a gentle smile, though tinged with incredulity, as if he knows something that Donghyuck doesn’t. In the background, Jeno and Jaemin visibly deflate with relieved sighs. Renjun glances back at them before looking back at Donghyuck, who’s still sitting on the pavement with a small frown. “Nothing has to magically happen, but give him a chance. I know you don’t really hate him and I think this could be a good time to get to know him. I know you guys sneak out in the mornings to do stuff, so you’ve spent enough time with him to know he’s really not all that bad.” 

Donghyuck sighs and stands up with a weary smile. It’s frustrating, the way Mark’s been trying to squirm his way back into Donghyuck’s life instead of a keeping his distance, and it’s _working_ , painfully so that whenever he looks at Mark he’s started seeing Minhyung, the bright-eyed elementary schooler that liked general music class and playing the recorder just a bit too much.

He’s too exhausted to argue, so he opts to give Renjun another small nod before quickening his pace towards the dorms. Instead of mulling over what Renjun had said, he pushes away the thoughts and runs to his room. As soon as he slams the door open, he collapses onto his bed; he would’ve completely missed Mark’s presence if it wasn’t for the screeching stop of strums and a surprised “Jesus Christ!”

Donghyuck sits up and stares at Mark, wondering if he peeled back the carefully-crafted layers, if it would really be Minhyung underneath. Mark squirms under his gaze, fidgeting with his fingers. Donghyuck opens his mouth, and a part of him wants to ask about what Renjun had said, but decides to say something simpler instead: “Can you play something for me?”

The wide grin he receives is enough of a reply.

On the last night, everyone is instructed to go to the main field for the final activity of camp, though the staff don’t say what it is. Renjun had warned Donghyuck with a grin to not wear white, and since Donghyuck has made it his personal mission to go against everything Huang Renjun says, he wears a white top with his shorts. Which proves to be a mistake because as soon as he reaches the field with the rest of the rookie boys in his dorm, he’s mercilessly pelted with water balloons and sprayed with water guns.

“ _Fuck_!” Donghyuck shrieks, sprinting for shelter through the scrambling crowd. He pauses to catch his breath, and vaguely hears Jaemin’s maniacal laughter. He traces it back to where Jaemin’s running around, spraying people with a foam gun. Donghyuck must’ve been staring for too long, because the thing to snap him out of it is an ice-cold jet of water to his back.

“Distracted, aren’t we?” Donghyuck spins around to see a smug smile etched onto Mark’s face as he prepares his gun to hit Donghyuck with another stream of water.

“Oh, _hell_ no,” Donghyuck groans before making a dash for a corner of the field that’s relatively empty. He hears Mark’s laughter behind him, not too far behind. Donghyuck glances around, trying his best in the darkness to find somewhere to hide. But instead, he ends up finding something better: a plastic bucket, likely full of water, with no one surrounding it. He changes course to sprint towards it, then grabs the handle and hears the tell-tale slosh of water; no one else has gotten to this bucket yet.

“Wha—” He hears Mark say, coming to a halt a few feet away. Donghyuck glances down at his bucket, then back up at Mark, grinning as Mark’s eyes go wide. Mark then turns around and runs for his life, with Donghyuck racing behind him in close pursuit. 

“Markie!” Donghyuck calls out between cackles. The water keeps spilling out of the bucket and onto his feet as he runs, but whatever’s left is enough to absolutely soak Mark, which is all Donghyuck wants. Donghyuck watches as Mark’s head snaps to the side, shock overtaking his features as a water balloon comes flying at him, hitting his squarely in the chest. 

“You’re welcome!” Jeno calls out in the distance. Mark stumbles back, sputtering and laughing. Donghyuck takes the opportunity to run up behind Mark and pour the entire bucket onto his head.

“Holy shit!” Mark yelps with a high pitched scream, which is broken off with laughter. Donghyuck throws the bucket to the side and doubles onto the muddy ground, wheezing until he has tears in his eyes. Through his blurry vision, Donghyuck watches as Mark somewhat composes himself and points his foam gun at Donghyuck.

“Mark!” Donghyuck squeals, blocking his face with his palms as he feels a jet of cold water hit his arms. 

“This is what you get!” he yells, accentuating each word with a spray. Donghyuck falls into another fit of giggles when Mark runs out of water. He glares down at his gun with an offended pout. “Don’t move.” Donghyuck could tell he’s trying to seem stern, but he’s biting his lip to hold back a laugh, completely giving himself away.

As soon as Mark turns his back on Donghyuck, Donghyuck springs from the ground and grabs Mark by the waist and lifts him into the air. Mark is surprisingly light, but even back then, it’d always been easy to give each other piggy-back rides. Plus, the guard muscles are definitely helping his case.

“Hyuck!” Mark screeches, his legs thrashing about. “Put me down!”

“No!” Donghyuck cheekily replies, searching for the nearest area of the field that has a water bucket. A few feet to his right is a trash can filled with water; it probably once contained water balloons, but those are long gone. He changes direction towards it, and has to tighten his hold on Mark, who’s still squirming in his arms. He clearly knows what Donghyuck’s about to do because he lets out a stream of rapid, high-pitched curses.

“This was supposed to be the vets attacking the rookies, not the other way around!” Mark protests amid his panicked ramble. 

Donghyuck mockingly coos. “Your own fault, isn’t it? For being such a big baby.” He shakes Mark in his arms for good measure, who yelps again.

“You’re so annoying!” Mark complains, but it has no effect on Donghyuck, especially since Mark is still uncontrollably giggling, probably out of panic. Before Donghyuck can retort, he hears three familiar voices from behind him, and sees Jeno, Renjun, and Jaemin speed past him towards the trash can. 

“Wait—fuck! No!” Donghyuck cries out. “That’s mine!” Donghyuck stops in his tracks, and Mark has fallen dead silent as they both watch as Jeno, Renjun, and Jaemin each grab the rim of the trash can, and come barrelling towards Donghyuck and Mark. Donghyuck and Mark both let out a scream before Donghyuck turns around and begins sprinting as fast as he can in the opposite direction, trying to escape the trio.

“Hurry up, hurry up!” Mark screams, kicking around. “Let me down or something!” 

Donghyuck scoffs and unceremoniously drops Mark, who lets out a groan at the impact. Unfortunately, his legs are moving faster than his brain, because he ends up tripping over Mark, sending himself tumbling onto the ground. Donghyuck watches in defeat as the giant grey trash can looms over his head, and closes his eyes as the three tip the can over, spilling the water onto Mark and Donghyuck.

Once they’ve emptied the contents of the trash can, they throw it to the side with a dull thud, then burst into laughter at Mark and Donghyuck’s soaking wet and muddy figures. 

“I told you not to wear white, you idiot!” Renjun exclaims, dramatically wiping away a tear. Donghyuck springs up from the ground to chase after him, but is stopped by a yank at his ankle, making him fall onto Mark. Mark lets out a pained cry, and Donghyuck scrambles off of him with a glare.

“You’re so annoying,” he mutters, parroting Mark’s words to him earlier. Donghyuck glances in the direction of where his three friends are, but they seem to be continuing their attack on Chenle, as they’re now chasing him around the field with another trash can of water. Donghyuck huffs under his breath; so much for getting revenge.

Mark pulls Donghyuck’s arm back, making Donghyuck completely fall onto the ground. Donghyuck notices Mark has cushioned his head with his own arm, and looked over at Mark with a twinge of confusion and frustration.

It quickly fades away when he sees Mark’s ecstatic grin staring back at him. He looks _way_ too happy for someone that’s completely drenched and shivering on a fairly cold night, but something about the sight makes Donghyuck grin as well. 

“Wanna get up?” Mark asks, making no movement to do so. Donghyuck shakes his head.

“Later. I’m sore. Plus,” Donghyuck points up at the sky above them, twinkling stars on full display, “the stars look nice.”

“Aren’t you cold?” Donghyuck just shrugs. Mark chuckles, shifting his gaze to the night sky. “I call dibs on the first shower, then.”

Donghyuck sighs, not taking his eyes off of the picturesque scene above them. “Fine, Mark.”

  
  


Donghyuck’s convinced that after away camp is over, guard will become easier. And in a way, it does for a while. But when their first football game is only a week away, and competition season is fast-approaching, Donghyuck knows the next few rehearsals are going to be intense. Taeyong and Ten are looking more frazzled than usual, and they were at the stage where they’re nitpicking every part of the choreography, not to mention changing entire parts. It makes Donghyuck’s head spin, and by the time the Friday of the football game rolls around he knows if he hears one more person holler “Late!” at him, he’ll absolutely lose it.

So when Donghyuck has just begun getting his beauty blender out to use for foundation and he hears the accursed word, he throws the sponge at the offending person with a maniac scream. He then looks back down into his pouch, rummaging around for the foundation cream he needed.

“Hyuck?” Donghyck looked up to see Mark holding his beauty blender between his fingers, his eyes comically large. “You kinda threw this at me? Not sure why.” He chuckles and drops it into Donghyuck’s makeup bag. 

“Did you say _the word_ ,” Donghyuck hisses, grabbing his beauty blender from where Mark had dropped it.

“Word?” Mark repeats, his face scrunching thoughtfully.

“Yes, the word.” Donghyuck squeezes the blender between his fingers with a small sigh.

“Oh, you mean lat—”

Donghyuck silences him with a well-aimed throw of the blender to Mark’s mouth, effectively shutting him up. “Say it again and this goes down your throat.” Mark blinks, tentatively touching where the blender had hit him in the lip. He bends down to pick up the blender, studying the small blue sponge for a second, before looking up at Donghyuck.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think foundation goes on your lips,” Mark says with a cheeky grin, tilting his head to the side in the most endearing yet frustrating way possible.

“You know basic makeup, congrats,” Donghyuck deadpans. “Now can you give that back?” 

Mark strolls over and plops next to Donghyuck, still holding the beauty blender. “Don’t want you to be _late_ ,” he drawls as he tosses the sponge into Donghyuck’s lap. Donghyuck glares at him, seething.

“Another word and I’ll cover you in so much makeup you’re gonna look like you’re part of guard.” Donghyuck holds up his eyeshadow palette as if to prove his point.

“As great as I would probably look in silver and gold eyeshadow and eyeliner, gotta pass on this one.” He pulls himself into a standing position, never taking his eyes off of Donghyuck.

“Wait, how do you know our makeup?” Donghyuck asks. “I sure as hell never told you, and there’s no real way for you to find out because you’re not in the guard group chat or anything.”

“Connections.” 

“But _why_ do you know? It’s not like it concerns you or anything,” Donghyuck presses as he narrows his eyes at Mark. Mark blinks and he spins around instead of answering the question, shoving his hands in his pockets with a flush creeping up his neck. He begins to walk away, only to pause a few feet away and turn around again. 

“Good luck with the eyeshadow. You’re pretty; you’ll pull it off.” He winks, albeit a bit awkwardly, before turning around again and tossing a wave over his shoulder.

The eyeshadow palette slips from his fingers as he stares at Mark’s retreating form. “You’re a dick!” he shouts at Mark, but Mark had already turned the corner, disappearing into the main hallway.

“You good?” Jaemin asks suddenly, poking his head out of the guard closet. Donghyuck jumps, startled, and restrains the urge to also pelt him with his beauty blender. “Did you add too much blush or something?” The question is clearly rhetorical, based on the huge grin plastered on his face.

“Fuck off, Jaem,” Donghyuck grumbles, “He’s an ass; he’s just trying to get under my skin.”

“Yeah, and it’s working!” Jaemin’s grin becomes impossibly wider before he spins around and rummages through the closet, letting out a delighted cry when he finds what he’s looking for. 

He strolls out of the closet, a rifle in one hand and a roll of silver tape in the other. “Forgot to tape it up,” he explains, plopping next to Donghyuck.

“We have to be on the stands in like, an hour and half. And you don’t have make-up on,” Donghyuck says, somewhat incredulously as he begins to apply his foundation. “Aren’t you supposed to be the vet here?”

“I was busy,” Jaemin replies smoothly, but his voice is breathy in the way it becomes whenever Jeno is involved. 

“Gross,” Donghyuck mutters, elbowing Jaemin. He then focuses back on the small eyeshadow palette mirror in his hands. His cheeks _are_ redder than usual, even though Mark had left several minutes ago, much to his annoyance. It’s rather inconvenient, that greasy flirting could rile him up. Especially since what Mark said has no reason to affect him the way it clearly is. They’re barely friends, begrudging acquaintances at best. Maybe that’s the issue; Donghyuck isn’t used to Mark flirting with him. It makes sense, considering when Jaemin flirts with him, he would flirt back with twice the fervor (Jeno has gotten used to it, chalking it up to the “weird platonic mating ritual” the two have).

He must’ve been studying his cheeks for too long based on the snicker he hears Jaemin let out from beside him. 

“Another noise and I’ll make you massage my feet, because holy _shit_ are they sore.” Donghyuck jabs Jaemin with the end of his eyeshadow brush, who hums, unfazed.

“Ah, the life of a rookie,” he mulls with a giggle. “Would love to massage your feet, Hyuck, but I gotta finish taping this up.” He pouts apologetically at Donghyuck. “You have very nice feet, if that makes you feel better!” 

“I’ll make sure to tell Jeno about your foot fetish,” Donghyuck replies, sickeningly sweet, while still dabbing the last of his eyeshadow onto his eyelids. Jaemin groans with a protest that’s muffled by the unwinding of his tape. 

Balancing the palette on his knees, Donghyuck fumbles for his eyeliner pencil. Once he finds it, he carefully applies the black liner on both eyelids, as well as adding a thin line on his waterlines. After giving himself a final check, surveying the glitter highlight adorning his cheekbones and the shimmer of his eye makeup, he snaps his palette shut and stuffs his makeup back into his pouch. Standing up, he brushes the excess glitter off of his black sweatpants and turns towards Jamein to show off his completed show makeup.

Jaemin whistles from where he was still sitting. “You look _hot_ , Hyuck!”

Donghyuck grins. “I’ll probably look better in uniform.”

“Don’t doubt it!” 

Donghyuck is about to reply when Jisung sprints into view, ignoring Sicheng’s hollers to “Stop running in uniform!” A suspender is dangling off of his shoulder and he’s clutching a black eyeliner pen. 

“Help me with eyeliner, Hyuck!” Jisung begs, running up to Donghyuck. “I can’t get it right, and I would ask Chenle but he also kinda sucks and he had to go warm-up for pit so…” He trails off and stares at Donghyuck imploringly.

Donghyuck ruffles Jisung’s hair in response, and Jisung groans, muttering about how it took ten minutes to comb his hair into place. He turns around and leads Donghyuck to where he’s sitting, close to the band room.

It feels like someone’s watching him; when Donghyuck sneaks a glance towards where Mark’s sitting, he’s on his phone, stifling a smile with pursed lips. It would’ve been a more convincing set up if the screen wasn’t dark and Mark wasn’t mindlessly tapping away at it.

During warm-ups, Taeyong gathers the team around him and Ten. “Don’t worry about getting a perfectly clean run. And don’t beat yourself up over a few dropped tosses, just pick up your equipment and keep going. Recovery’s a category at competitions, too.” He smiles while Ten winks from next to him.

“This is your first real run, okay? So I want you to focus on how it feels. Like, don’t stop spinning or dancing or something—god, please don't do that, one of my rookies a few years ago walked her entire first show because she forgot everything—but stay in the moment. It’s pretty magical!” Ten adds. 

“Also, I guarantee that whatever you guys do will be better than whatever the football team is doing,” a voice calls out from behind them. They all turn around to see Johnny grinning while jabbing a finger at the scoreboard, which displays a pitiful score of 23-0. “They’re not even done with the first-half and it looks like this.”

“Be nice,” Taeyong scolds with a shake of his head. Johnny laughs and strolls away, likely to start filing the band off of the bleachers to start warming them up.

“He’s got a point, you know!” Ten giggles and claps his hands together, clearly pleased with Johnny’s dig at the football team. “Support them and all that shit”—he sheepishly smiles at Taeyong’s muttered “language” from behind him—“but just know you guys got this. You’ll be the prettiest on the field _and_ way more interesting!”

Taeyong claps his hands. “Okay, that’s enough insulting the football team. Go warm up,” he instructs, shooing them away. He turns away to start the metronome, and Donghyuck sets down his flags in his spot to begin the dance routine.

The thing no one can truly explain about marching band shows is the absolute adrenaline that pumps through your veins during it, igniting every inch of skin and muscle until you lose yourself in the moment. People try to explain it, much like Jaemin, Jeno, and Renjun have tried, but even their dramatic rambles can’t compare to the raw feeling of spinning a flag as the marching band provides a steady backdrop of sound, occasionally punctuated by the roar of the larger-than-expected crowd in the bleachers.

It's, by no means, a perfect run. Donghyuck drops two of his tosses and nearly forgets the choreo to a new section they had added last week into movement three. He also stumbles on his silk and lands on a few dots a few steps off. Yet, he isn’t upset as he thought he would be. Because like Taeyong said, he doesn’t have to worry about a perfect run. Maybe some of his mistakes are a bit disappointing, yes, but the raw electricity that coursed through his veins during the eight minute show makes up for them.

He finally understands what Jaemin would gush about during the lunches after competitions, the way he ends up laughing at the crowd’s response to certain parts, just out of pure glee. And he loves the feeling. He loves the screams people let out when Jaemin catches his sabre toss during his solo on the prop. He loves the awed gasps and huge applause during Sicheng’s rifle solo at the center of the field. He still has a long way to go, but eliciting such reactions inspires a sudden burst of motivation in Donghyuck to keep working and improving. The hours of work and tears finally make _sense_.

“You know, this is why people march,” Jaemin explains after Taeyong and Ten’s post-show pep-talk. He flicks away a sweat-soaked strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes before readjusting his grip on the flags and rifles bundled in his arms. “The games and competitions make it all worth it.”

Donghyuck grins and clutches the flags in his arms a bit tighter. “Yeah, I'm starting to get it now.” Jisung enthusiastically nods in agreement from next to him.

“How was your run?” Jaemin asks the two of them as they all near the school doors. They needed to stow away all of their equipment into their individual guard bags until next week’s rehearsal.

“Decent, I guess,” Donghyuck replies. He still feels a bit of the residual adrenaline from the show, but most of it had worn off enough for him to think properly about the show as a whole. “Dropped the 45 toss in part two and the double silk in part three. Made a couple more issues but it was overall okay.”

“Same here,” Jisung adds. “Dropped my money-hand toss and the wind kinda threw off my pop toss from where I was standing.”

“Well, that’s better than what I can say for my first run!” Jaemin giggles. “I dropped a pop-toss at the beginning of part three and panicked, then ended up forgetting the rest of the part three choreo.”

Donghyuck snorts and Jisung lets out a quiet “oh.” Jaemin glances at them before bursting into laughter. He swings open the door to the building, holding it there for the other two. 

“It ended up fine, honestly. Cried a bit and completely ruined Jeno’s uniform—which made Yeeun _really_ upset because it was a pain to clean—but it was a fine. I’m still alive!” He steps into the building and drops his flags onto the carpet before digging out his bag from the pile of them sitting by the guard closet. Donghyuck and Jisung are already slipping their flags into their own bags.

“Look,” Jaemin continues, letting out a small “aha!” when he finds his bag, “moral of the story is that no matter how badly you mess up a show, it usually turns out fine if you can fake it. But try not to mess it up.”

Jisung gulps, looking decidedly more pained than before, and Donghyuck pats his back. 

“Hey, I’m proud of you guys, though, okay? Runs aren’t easy and you both did really well.” Jaemin gives them a gentle smile as he puts away his bag into the closet and shuts off the lights. “Now let’s go cheer for our failing football team, yeah?”

Donghyuck decides that the stupidest rule in marching band is that you can’t eat in uniform. _Technically._ That, and the rule that you have to stay for the entire football game. It’s pathetic really, and Donghyuck almost feels bad for Coach Jung, who looks like he’s going to tear his hair out. Color guard has to mimic whatever the cheerleaders do while the marching band blasts pep tunes from behind him. It is pretty fun, for sure, but Donghyuck’s starving and the overpriced cup-of-noodles being sold seem particularly delectable.

It’s half-way through the fourth quarter when Sicheng must have either taken pity on the other guard members, or maybe he had given up hope for the football team (who were now losing 6-37), because he finally begins to dismiss members for the concession stand. “If you want to eat, make sure you have your sweats on,” he reminds them all before sending off Jisung and Donghyuck, who are both bouncing on the balls of their feet in anticipation.

“Bring me back some coke, dear Hyuckie,” Jaemin begs, grabbing Donghyuck’s shoulders as he’s about to leave the stands for the concession booth.

“Jaem, you could ask Renjun or Chenle, you know,” Donghyuck says flatly. “Pit was allowed to eat ages ago.”

Jaemin wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, I really don’t get why they’re the exception to, like, every possible rule. They all eat in uniform!”

“Yeah, then go steal some of Renjun’s noodles.” Donghyuck flicks his wrist towards where Renjun’s sitting with the rest of the pit, slurping from a cup-of-noodles as Chenle chugs a coke beside him.

Jaemin grinned. “Good idea. See you, Hyuck!” Donghyuck blows him a dramatic kiss in return.

“You guys are weird,” Jisung mutters. 

“Not all of us have loving boyfriends, Ji,” Donghyuck scoffs.

“Jaemin’s literally dating?” 

Donghyuck saunters ahead of him in lieu of a reply.

After buying snacks, Donghyuck spending _way_ too much money to be normally accpetable for a concession stand, he's sitting next to Jaemin, happily sipping his coke as he observes the game with feigned interest. He’s paying more attention to Renjun and Jaemin’s bickering, arguing whether the Blue Coats or Blue Devils are the better DCI team.

“Can we kick them out of our section? Or at least Jaemin?” Donghyuck hears Chenle whisper to Jeno with a sip of the coke he’s sharing with Jisung. “Guard’s supposed to sit a few rows back and they’ve been arguing for, like, 10 minutes.”

Jisung snatches the can from Chenle’s hands. “Don’t kick me out,” he pleads. He tips the can back to drink, only to find out it’s empty. “Nevermind, you finished the coke, I’m leaving.”

Chenle gasps and tugged at Jisung’s arm. “Sung!” 

“You’re literally vibrating, Le. I’m getting more coke, and you don’t get any.” Jisung leans over and pecks Chenle’s lips before leaving to ask Sicheng if he can go back to the concession stand. Chenle huffs, cheeks a pale red, before returning his gaze to the game. Jeno snickers in front of him, earning him a hard kick to the back.

“Red’s a nice look on you, Le,” Donghyuck teases. 

Chenle elbows him. “You’re single; no rights.” 

“Annoying.” Donghyuck flicks the cowbell in Chenle’s hands before pulling a bag of cheetos from where he had stored it by his feet. He’s practically gorging on expensive concession food at this point, but the food is the most interesting part of the past hour. 

He’s halfway through the bag, listening as Renjun switches topics to something about Carolina Crown, when a brown-haired boy sidles up next to him with a wide smile and in a marching uniform. 

“Hey, are you gonna finish that?” He points the bag.

“Aren’t you not allowed to eat in uniform?”

“Mm, yeah, but that’s if they catch you.” The boy laughs brightly. “They get more chill about it by the fourth quarter anyway. So?” The boy pokes the bag. “Can I?”

Donghyuck blinks at him, wordlessly holding out the bag for the boy to take some. He sticks his hand in and grabs a handful, tossing it into his mouth. 

“I’m Yangyang, by the way,” the boy eventually says with a small wave of his cheese-coated fingers. “Trumpet. I’m assuming you’re in guard.”

Donghyuck laughs. “Did the sweats give it away? Yeah, I’m in guard. Donghyuck.”

The two fall into easy conversation. Within the first ten minutes, all of the trumpet-player stereotypes Jaemin and Renjun told him at the beginning of the season about start to make sense. Yangyang’s loud and shameless, way too much energy bottled up in his relatively-tiny figure. He soon convinces Donghyuck to grab a ramen cup for them to share, promising that he’ll pay Donghyuck back, and the two of them sit together to watch the game and share the cup.

By the time they’ve finished most of the cup, Yangyang gets called back to his section, as they’re about to start playing pep tunes again. “See ya! Thanks, Donghyuck!” he chirps with a two-fingered salute before skipping up the bleachers.

“So you met Yangyang?” Renjun asks a few minutes later, eyebrows raised.

“You know him?"

“Yeah,” Renjun says with a nod, “we met in Chinese school back in seventh grade or something. Reconnected last year. He’s cool.”

“Cool, huh?”

“Yup.” Renjun stares back ahead at the band as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world “Very cool.”

There’s suddenly a weight on his shoulder. Before he can look to see what it is, a voice from next to him says, “Hey, Hyuck, can I have some?” 

Donghyuck lets out a dramatic sigh and slurps a noodle loudly, broth splattering on his face and the face of the boy next to him. “You could buy your own, Mark. Not your sugar daddy.”

“Battery isn’t allowed to grab food. _Please_?”

Donghyuck sighs, holding out his cup. “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah I promise.” Mark swings his legs over the bleachers and sits where Jaemin last was, eagerly taking the foam cup from Donghyuck’s hands. “You’re the best.”

“So why exactly are you not with your section?” Donghyuck asks as Mark twirls a noodle around his fork.

“Food,” Mark says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus, you guys are more entertaining than hearing them argue about how the battery break was harder last year.”

Donghyuck considers that. “Yeah, fair enough.” He’s been subject to enough guard rants to know how people get when defending their favorite shows.

“You know, you’re not so bad.” Mark taps his fork to his lips, studying Donghyuck for a second before fishing out another few noodles. There’s a snicker from in front of them, and Mark kicks Jaemin in the side.

“I should be the one saying that,” Donghyuck huffs. “As in determining that. You still suck.”

“You sound like a two year old.”

“And _you_ haven’t matured since twelve.”

“Yeah, and you would know.” Despite his words, Mark’s eyes are sparkling, as if he’s pleased to finally figure something out. “I don't think you forgot about me, Hyuck, right?”

Donghyuck sighs, running a hand through his hair even though it’ll mess up the copious amount of hair gel he added to keep it in place. “Wish I could’ve, idiot. You’re an asshole for leaving, you know that, right?”

“I told you I was moving!”

“Yeah, like _three_ days before.” Donghyuck huffs. His heart has started to squeeze painfully in his chest, so shifts his gaze away from Mark and towards the _Cup Noodles_ logo emblazoned on the foam container. “Forget it.”

“I am sorry, you know. That I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t get much of a heads up beforehand, either.”

Donghyuck ducks his head. “Just forget it. It’s fine. I don’t care anymore.” It’s a transparent lie, and he knows Mark can tell. It’s hard to say he doesn’t care when Mark was the first person that ever made his heart ache before he really understood what it meant.

“I missed you a lot, if that means anything.”

Donghyuck finally fixes Mark with a withering glare. “I’m literally going to sock you if you don’t drop the topic.”

“Fine, fine.” Mark frowns into his cup, before continuing to eat the ramen, noodle by noodle. 

It’s awkward, and Donghyuck kind of wants to go find Yangyang or something to escape the tension. But he’s currently bracketed between Mark and a bunch of pit equipment, so there’s not much of an escape available.

“Chicken is better than beef, you know.”

“What?”

“Chicken.” Mark drums his fingers against the cup.

“I mean, this was the only flavor they had available,” Donghyuck says dryly.

“Yeah.” Mark chuckles, sucking on the plastic fork.

“God,” and Donghyuck can’t stop himself from smiling at the stupidity of it all, “you’re still so awkward.”

“And you’re still you, so here we are.” Mark holds out the cup. “Ramen?”

Before Donghyuck can say anything, the bleachers erupt into cheers, and a quick glance to the leaderboard tells him their team made a touchdown. Mark jumps to his feet, screaming and pumping a fist in the air while the broth of his cup-of-noodles in his other hand sloshes dangerously. 

“Mark!” Donghyuck yells. “My food!”

“Sh—Wait!” Mark shoves the cup into Donghyuck’s hands before practically sprinting down the bleachers to where battery is huddled together. He makes it there just as Lucas steps to the front of the band, raising his hands and beginning to count off a pep-tune.

Jisung turns around to look at Donghyuck; they’re the only two sitting, Donghyuck being too lazy to stand and Jisung being confused. “Aren’t we supposed to be dancing?”

“Yeah.” Donghyuck looks over to where Mark’s playing his tenor drums, grinning as he moving his body with the beat. “Oops. We’ll do it next time.”

He can practically hear Jisung rolling his eyes. “Sure you will.”

Donghyuck is only slightly ashamed to admit he, in fact, doesn’t do it next time. 

  
  


“Shit!” Donghyuck yelps as he steps on what he thought was a bag but is actually Renjun, curled up on the floor of the bus. 

“Watch where you’re going.” Renjun scowls.

“You're—okay,” Donghyuck says, blinking at Renjun. “Is it comfortable down here?”

Renjun gives him a thumbs up. “Very. Our seat is over there,” he says, pointing to the two seats to the left of him. “You can come join me down here if you want.” 

Donghyuck shrugs, tossing his backpack into the seat before curling onto Renjun’s lap. 

“This wasn’t what I meant.”

“Yeah, but it’s what you’re getting,” Donghyuck shoots back. “You’re bony as hell.”

Renjun groans but ends up letting Donghyuck stay there, and they chat with Jeno and Jaemin, who are sitting together in the seat across from them. About fifteen minutes away from the venue, they all make a scramble for makeup. Donghyuck tries to apply his eyeliner with a shaky hand, ends up getting it in his eye, and belatedly realizes he forgot to pack makeup remover.

“Do you think hand sanitizer works as makeup remover?” Donghyuck asks Renjun, holding out his tiny plastic bottle of sanitizer.

Renjun blinks at him. “Holy crap, don’t use hand sanitizer as makeup remover.”

Donghyuck uses hand sanitizer as makeup remover. It burns his eyes and his vision goes blurry for a few seconds, but it gets the job done and he manages to finish his makeup with minimal issues.

The guard hides behind the massive marching costume bags to change, and by the time Donghyuck secures his suspenders, they’re at the venues, preparing to unload the buses.

“You nervous?” Mark asks as he passes Donghyuck by on his way to help unload. Donghyuck stares at him; he didn’t even know Mark was on the same bus. Donghyuck figures he’s probably sitting towards the back.

“Nope,” Donghyuck says, as if he didn’t put his jazz shoes on the wrong foot twice. 

“Good, ‘cause you’ll be great.” Mark smiles before jogging through the aisle and off of the bus. Renjun raises his eyebrows at Donghyuck from where he’s combing his hair into place. Donghyuck flips him off in response.  
  


Competitions are special, Donghyuck thinks as they filter off of the field. They had the opportunity to perform in a university-sized football field, and if he thought the reception from the football game was impressive, it was literally _nothing_ compared to the cheers of the fellow bands sitting in the stands. 

It had started out shaky, with the vibes coming in a beat later after Lucas’ downbeat on part one, but they were able to recover quickly. Excluding the initial mishap, it was an even cleaner run than last time; Donghyuck landed nearly every dot perfectly, remained on beat for all of part one and two, and caught the final toss with such ease that he burst into laughter as soon as they lowered their flags. It still wasn't perfect, but shows usually never were. Renjun gripes about how he missed an entrance in part three, Jisung mentions he dropped his silk toss, and they all continue to talk about the good and bad parts of their individual runs on the way back to the buses.

After changing out of uniforms, buzzing with that post-show high, they all head down to the stadium to grab concessions and watch other bands. Donghyuck doesn’t bother washing off his makeup, even if the dramatic eyeshadow and glitter in his hair contrasts their black show shirts.

Donghyuck jumps into one of the lines for the concession stand with Renjun, Jisung, and Jaemin; Jeno had wandered off with Chenle a few minutes prior to find DCI merch, handing Donghyuck their money and requests for food. Yangyang waves at Donghyuck from the opposite line, and Donghyuck tugs at the hem of Renjun’s sleeve to point out Yangyang. Renjun brightens, immediately ditching their group with the promise of “I’ll meet you guys around the last show,” to join Yangyang and the other people in his group.

“Damn, that was fast,” Jaemin says with a snort, watching as Renjun animatedly talks with Yangyang in rapid Mandarin. His phone buzzes in his pockets, and he pulls it out to scan through the message on his screen. “You good with Mark joining us?” he asks Donghyuck. “They’re almost done loading everything back onto the buses.”

“I mean…” Donghyuck shrugs. “Yeah, it’s fine. Tell him he needs to bring his own money.”

“Stingy, much.” Jaemin taps away at a reply anyways. “Yeah, he’ll meet us at our seats.”

After buying armfuls of popcorn and candy, the five of them shuffle to find seats, and end up huddling together to handle the biting cold. Mark shows up about ten minutes later, swaddled in a blanket.

“Hi,” he says to Donghyuck, stealing a kernel from the bucket on Donghyuck’s lap.

“Didn’t I say to bring your own money?”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t take some of your food, though,” Mark points out, taking another kernel. It’s one of the extra buttered kernels, and Donghyuck kicks him in the shin.

“Then can I share?” Dongnhyuck asks, tugging on the end of Mark’s soft blanket. “It’s literally freezing out.”

“And why should I do that?” Mark asks, voice edged with mirth as he blatantly takes another few kernels of popcorn. 

Donghyuck levels Mark with an unimpressed look before jabbing a finger into Mark’s chest. “You owe me, asshole.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” He holds out an end of the blanket for Donghyuck to take. “C’mere.”

Donghyuck curls up into his side as Mark covers him with the blanket, giving the end for Donghyuck to hold.

The proximity is startling, almost terrifying as he thinks about it, but it’s the warmest he’s felt since stepping off of the buses earlier that morning. It’s strange that they can do all of this with such ease, as if they’re just picking up from where they left off.

They watch the rest of the shows like that, and if Donghyuck notices Mark look at him more than he looks at the field, he doesn't say anything about it.

  
  


“The Edgar Allen Poe show was really cool,” Renjun says as they make their way back to the bus after awards. They had placed fifth overall, which was definitely a feat considering the talented bands competing against them.

“You’re only saying that because it opened with a marimba solo,” Jaemin points out. “Objectively, the one based off of La La Land was the best.”

“And _you’re_ only saying that because it was guard heavy,” Jeno cuts in. 

“They got first, too!” Jaemin throws up his hands. “What do you want from me! I’m a simple man!”

“The Raven one _deserved_ first,” Chenle chirps up, and the four of them delve into bickering.

“I’m pretty sure Renjun and Chenle are right,” Jisung whispers to Donghyuck. “They were more in sync.”

“Mark said something about how the drill for the La La Land show was harder, so it was more impressive,” Donghyuck explains. Mark was already back on the buses, since he was called back to fix some last-minute things before they had to leave the venue.

“Mark, huh.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck says with a nod, trying to ignore the implications of Jisung’s words. “Mark.”

"You guys are close, then? You don't seem to want to kill him, like, all of the time. It's nice—" Jisung pauses when he hears someone scream out a _"fuck!"_ from their group. He checks to see how far away Johnny is, to avoid getting scolded, and luckily he's towards the front of the group. "Okay, anyways, yeah, it's nice. You guys should've talked earlier."

"I guess. He's alright." Maybe that's definitely not completely what he thinks, but there's no need for him to vent out his frustrations to Jisung when he's still trying to figure it all out. They climb onto the buses, and Donghyuck curls up in his seat, staring blankly at his phone as if it'll hold all of the answers he needs.

  
  


Donghyuck sighs, redirecting his attention out the window to watch as cars whir by under the light of the streetlamps. It’s probably around one in the morning; his phone is dead and he’s too lazy to charge it, but based on how uncharacteristically quiet the bus was, even the back, it must be pretty late. Jaemin has long abandoned Donghyuck for Jeno somewhere in the back, and the two are probably cuddling in one of the seats. Chenle and Jisung are asleep in the seat in front of him, and Renjun had disappeared pretty early in the bus ride. So it’s safe to say he’s alone, and bored. Donghyuck can go only so long without human attention. He scoots to the edge of his seat to survey the seats behind him.

It's completely dark, except for one of the seats, which still has the lights on. Based on the tuft of blonde hair he sees sticking up, it's Mark’s—so definitely a source of entertainment and attention. Donghyuck stumbles to the back of the bus, nearly tripping over Renjun in the process, who's still lying down in the middle of the aisle, head pillowed on someone's leg. He pulls aside the long uniform bag that's blocking off Mark’s seat from the rest of the bus, probably in an attempt to contain the light. Mark looks up at Donghyuck with wide eyes as the latter pulls the uniform bag back to its original spot and plops onto the vacant seat next to Mark.

“What’re you doing?” Donghyuck asks, peering at the stack of papers on Mark’s lap. Mark quietly groans, twirling a pencil between his fingers.

“Calc homework. It’s due next week,” he explains with a small pout, and it draws Donghyuck's eyes there. His lips are small, cute, even. When they were younger, Donghyuck would always trace them because of how pink they were, almost unnaturally so. It would make Mark flush pink as he would bat away Donghyuck's hands.

“Donghyuck?” Mark’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. He blinks and focuses on Mark, who's studying him with an unreadable expression. “You’ve been blankly staring at me for a while.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck intelligently responds. “Sorry.” Mark breathily laughs, then resumes working. He curls up in the seat and watches as Mark taps his pencil against his chin, humming quietly, before scribbling something down. He's pouting a bit again, and Donghyuck has to force himself to stare literally anywhere else to avoid any developing awkwardness. After a few minutes, Mark throws down his stack of papers, wincing slightly at the loud noise. Donghyuck straightens in concern. “Don’t you need to finish?”

Mark shakes his head with an awkward chuckle. “I can’t pay attention right now, it’s alright. I’ll finish it tomorrow.”

Donghyuck frowns. ”Am I distracting you?” There's really no reason that he should be distracting Mark, considering he's done nothing but sit in one place, but he also doesn't want to be the reason Mark fails calc. He places a hand on the uniform bag to push it aside, but Mark’s hand quickly comes up to cover it. His hand hand is warm, almost clammy. “Don’t leave,” Mark mumbles.

Donghyuck glances up at Mark, whose cheeks are dusted a pretty pink, a stark contrast to the bright reds Donghyuck's come to associate with Mark. It's gentle color as if about to disappear at any moment. Mark begins playing with Donghyuck’s fingers, and it feels like sixth grade all over again, them sitting on the mulch of their neighbourhood playground together and talking about anything that pops into Donghyuck's mind.

Except some things aren't different. Mark's gaze isn't as shy, no longer intimated by Donghyuck's bright, straightforward personality. It's tense, weighed down by something Donghyuck can't place but wants to drown in all the same.

Mark looks up at Donghyuck, locking eyes, then shifts his gaze a bit downwards, his blush deepening in hue. It takes Donghyuck a second to realize what he's staring at, and as soon as he does, Mark's tongue darts out to wet his own lips, almost unconsciously.

He wants to drown in Mark's gaze, so he jumps.

He leans over and presses his lips against Mark’s.

It's clunky, and Mark's barely moving in response, only managing out a squeak. Donghyuck pulls back, anxiety bubbling in his stomach. “Is this…” Donghyuck trails off. He opens his mouth again to apologize, then sees the way Mark is raking his eyes up and down Donghyuck as if taking in every inch of him, imprinting him in his brain, committing him to memory until the image will be effortless to conjure up again.

Mark finally laughs, low and teasing. “You idiot.”

And then, he's dragging Donghyuck by the nape of his neck to meet his lips again.

It's softer than he could've imagined, softer than the times he thought about this back in sixth grade when everything seemed so cut and dry. It's all so different to now, when you're supposedly guaranteed so much yet given so little. But Donghyuck takes and takes, until his lungs are burning and he wonders if maybe this is what he's been waiting for after all those years.

Donghyuck wraps his arms around Mark as he moves his mouth against Mark’s. Mark nibbles at Donghyuck’s lower lip, pulling out a gasp from Donghyuck's parted lips. He uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into Donghyuck’s mouth, and it's then Donghyuck _knows_ this isn't the shy Minhyung in oversized glasses that shuffled up to Donghyuck, asking for him to be his valentine because he had no one else to share a box of chocolates with. This is Mark, smart and teasing and a bit cocky, and Donghyuck knows that now that he's had a taste of what Mark feels like he won't ever settle for less.

Donghyuck’s heart pounds in his chest as they both let out quiet moans into the messy kiss. It's overwhelming in the most welcoming way, and Donghyuck won't stop taking as Mark keeps giving.

Without breaking the kiss, he climbs onto Mark’s lap, straddling his thighs. Mark kisses down his throat, sucking on a spot right above Donghyuck’s collarbone, where Donghyuck’s cotton t-shirt met skin, and Donghyuck makes a note of how careful Mark is, not leaving bruises anywhere visible, hands only resting on the curve of his hips. When Mark slips his hands underneath the t-shirt, his touch cold, Donghyuck's hips involuntarily buck up, pressing himself closer to Mark until all he can feel is Mark's breath, Mark's hands, just _Mark._

Mark's hands wander along the smooth expanse of Donghyuck's skin, mapping every inch out as Donghyuck presses their lips together again. He curls a hand into Mark's hair, the blond strands impossibly softer than he expected. It's so unexpected, the way Mark fights with biting words and kisses as if he has something to prove, yet every other part of him is gentle, from the hands creeping onto his waist to Mark's eyes once they finally pull away. He's looking at Donghyuck so reverently that it takes Donghyuck aback, and idly, he wonders if that's always been there. That feeling of love that Donghyuck's been trying to chase away since Mark left, and push down since Mark's returned, a foot taller and baby fat gone to reveal sharp cheekbones.

“You’re gorgeous,” he hears Mark murmur with the shyest grin playing on his lips.

“I’m a mess,” Donghyuck huffs. “How am I supposed to explain this to my parents when I drive back home?” Mark giggles, and Donghyuck’s heart leaps into his throat at the sound. "Also, so what's up with that? Do you hate me or what, because I genuinely can't tell."

"You're kidding." Mark blinks at Donghyuck. "Please tell me you're kidding."

Donghyuck stares back at him blankly. "So you don't?"

"Dude, I've been in love with you since, like fourth grade? Shit, I don't know, it's been a really long time. It's the reason why I even came back—I begged my parents and promised I would do well in school and everything."

"You really just confessed your love for me and called me dude in the same sentence."

"Yeah, okay, maybe I could've been more eloquent, whatever. You get my point." Mark smiles wryly at Donghyuck. "I'm sorry. For being an asshole. I sweat I didn't want to, but, like, you would only talk to me through insults and everything so there wasn't too much of an option."

"You could've told me all of this in freshman year, you know," Donghyuck points out. Mark cocks a brow.

"Or _you_ could've told me." He pauses, then says, "Wait, so you _do_ feel the same way, right?"

"Mark," Donghyuck sighs, "you literally had your tongue down my throat five minutes ago."

"It could mean different things! But we can—we can talk about this later. It's late." Mark loosens his grip on Donghyuck's waist, allowing him to climb out of Mark's lap, but the loss of warmth already makes Donghyuck ache. He instead curls himself up in Mark’s lap and lays his head on Mark’s shoulder with a content sigh. Mark chuckles before he wraps a protective hold around Donghyuck, securing him in his lap.

"You haven't changed a bit," Mark murmurs.

"You have." The words are muffled, but Mark hears them all the same.

"I have," he agrees. "But some things haven't changed, I think."

"You still laugh the same," Donghyuck says. "And your smile is the same, too."

Mark giggles. "You remember all of that? You missed me that much, huh."

"Shut up," Donghyuck says with a flick to Mark's forehead. "You missed me too."

Mark holds Donghyuck imperceptibly tighter. "More than anything."

And perhaps it’s fitting, that the boy that once made his heart ache with something beautiful, something painful, still knows just what to say to make it hurt in every way possible. It's not something Donghyuck can say he minds.

“Holy _shit_ Mark, I just put on foundation!” Donghyuck shrieks, batting away Mark’s face. “Do you really want my foundation on your lips.”

Mark snorts and leans closer, his lips brushing against Donghyuck’s. “My bad, is here fine? Since you haven’t put lipstick on?”

Donghyuck hums. “It’s better, I guess.” As he moves to fully meet Mark lips, Donghyuck hears someone clear their throat, and they jump apart. 

Renjun’s staring at them with wide eyes. He blinks. “Sorry, what the fuck did I miss?”

“I mean—”

Yangyang wraps his arms around Renjun’s waist, propping his head up on Renjun’s shoulder. “Yeah, what did he miss?” He eyes Mark and Donghyuck’s joined hands. “ _Oh._ Finally, nice!” He pecks Renjun on the cheek before wandering off to find the other trumpets.

“Not a _word_ ,” Renjun threatens. 

“So he was ‘very cool’ indeed,” Donghyuck points out with a grin. “Nice.”

“Oh, fuck off. Jaemin!” Renjun shouts into the guard closet. Jaemin wanders out, a silver silk in hand. “They’re dating!” he announces, jabbing a finger towards Mark and Donghyuck. “It literally just took them to make out once for them to realize it. Can you believe it? We should’ve left them alone in a dark space sooner.”

“We’re not _dating_ ,” Donghyuck sputters out as Mark says, “Yeah we are.” 

Donghyuck glances at Mark. “Okay, so we’re apparently dating. Sure. But how the hell did you know about the band bus stuff?”

“You guys weren’t exactly quiet, you know," Renjun says, and Jaemin nods in agreement.

“Okay, but I thought you were asleep.” Donghyuck huffs and turns to Mark. “Did people actually hear us?” Mark averts his eyes, rubbing the nape of his neck in lieu of a reply.

“Hyuck,” Renjun says, equal parts fond and exasperated, “no one actually sleeps on the band bus. We were all in the back playing Mario Party.”

“You ditched me for your switch?”

“Well…” Renjun shrugs. “Yangyang and his switch. So, basically, yeah. Hey, it was a good thing, right?” He gestures at Donghyuck and Mark. “I still want that 20% cut to cover the sheer amount of brain cells I lost because of you two. Oh, and”—he turns to Jaemin—”you owe me twenty bucks.”

With that, Renjun strolls away, his Drillmasters clicking against the tile floor.

“He’s happy because he won our bet,” Jaemin explains with a roll of his eyes.

“You bet on me?” Mark asks indignantly. “I told you guys to _help_ me, not bet on me!”

“You told them to help you?” Donghyuck asks before Jaemin can reply. Mark stutters out a “maybe” and Jaemin bursts into laughter.

“It was cute. I think he asked for help like, sophomore year. He was like—”

“Okay! That’s enough exposing me! I’m going to go change.” Mark stands and brushes himself off, trying to get rid of the residual glitter of Donghyuck’s eyeshadow clinging to his jeans. Before he leaves, he leans down to kiss Donghyuck, long and sweet and tasting a bit like the smoothie they shared an hour ago. 

“So how long have you liked him? Beginning of freshman year?”

Donghyuck shrugs, and he lets himself smile at Mark’s retreating back. “About eight years.”

The thing about marching season is that it’s filled with ups and downs that make Donghyuck feel like he’s on a rollercoaster, the world just stringing him along for the ride. They make it to finals for the first of their two BOA competitions, ranking fourth, the highest ever placement recorded in NCT marching band history. Mark gets a horrendous action shot on the prop during his solo that ends up being his profile picture on Donghyuck’s phone for the rest of the year, and Donghyuck learns that the wind sucks and having a 45 toss hit you in the face fucking _hurts_. It’s the funniest thing whenever Mark meets up with Donghyuck as they're walking off of the field, his tenors and Donghyuck’s flags always requiring at least a foot of space between them.

His final run at their second BOA isn’t his best. He fumbles with his money-hand, ends a drop-spin a half-beat early, and nearly runs into Jisung for a part because Jisung’s jazz-walking too slowly and Donghyuck’s jazz-running too quickly. 

It isn’t the band’s best run, either. Chenle’s synth goes silent for a sudden few bars at the beginning until he figures out which knob forgot to be adjusted, battery drowns out the pit during part four, and there are a couple of dropped tosses throughout the guard. 

Yet, when their announcer shouts “In third place, the NCT Marching Band!” everything _perfectly_ falls into place anyways. Every practice, football game, and competition led up to this moment, and it’s a dizzying rush of euphoria as the announcer calls for the “final retreat” on the field.

As soon as he yells “break!” Donghyuck is sprinting towards Mark, ignoring Ten’s nagging voice in the back of his head about running in uniform. Mark’s running to him, laughing brightly with his arms wide open, the rest of their friends in close pursuit.

And as he’s swept up in Mark’s embrace with the band cheering and screaming around him, he thinks that hey, maybe marching band isn’t so bad after all.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> yes i stuffed all of my favorite ships and tropes in here sue me  
> thanks for reading <33
> 
> come visit here [twt](https://twitter.com/jisunflwer) & [cc](https://curiouscat.me/jisunflwr)


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